


To ReAwaken

by Jyou_no_Sonoko



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: A union of all three aspects is needed to feel whole, F/F, Lilith's body hasn't been her own for some time, There's no way to reach emotional equilibrium with intellect alone, and touch cannot achieve much without a tether, in order to give the physical ones a path to travel, itself a multi-level cage, marith, on many many levels, once she kept so much at bay for the duration of the pregnancy, or at least to begin, physical disassociation, post-natal issues, sensory disassociation, she can't just will herself to re-connect with the physical, what Mary is very adept at doing is drawing emotional connections
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:36:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28419984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jyou_no_Sonoko/pseuds/Jyou_no_Sonoko
Summary: Having given birth to her child, Lilith reveals to Mary a regrettable side effect of her long, emotionally brutal pregnancy: she has been left with feelings of sensory abstraction, as a result of necessary disassociation along the way, as following the events of"It's Been Too Long". ( A conversation from"Not In The Room"is referenced where Mary's asexuality is mentioned, and I would recommend reading that short piece first, for emotional context as well as narrative.)
Relationships: Mary Wardwell | Madam Satan | Lilith/Original Mary Wardwell
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	To ReAwaken

Mary emerged from the newly renovated cellar, taking a last peek below before carefully lowering the door. “Lilith, are you sure it's all right for the succubi to be curled around the baby?”

From the long couch at the hearth, Lilith peered over her shoulder at Mary's approach, her dark fountain of hair longer than it had been for some time.

“Why wouldn't it be? They have no reputation for being infantivores, do they?”

“I suppose not,” she sighed, casting her gaze downwards as though she might see through the floorboards.

“And even if they were so inclined, they would not dare it. Have you not noticed how they revere me?”

Lilith's eyes followed her as she rounded the couch, shifted to watch Mary's hand where it rested on the wooden frame while she lowered herself to sit.

“Of course I have, it's just... I'm sorry, I'm still getting used to having demons in my home. Real ones, I mean.”

“Rather than those you keep in your head.”

“Yes. Other than those.”

Mary took in the vision of Lilith: for the first time in a while, she was dressed in something more than a silk robe, though not what the average mortal would call sufficient: a button-up satin shirt, fitted and charcoal, covered her just beyond the hips.

“You must be very comfortable, I don't think I've seen you move for hours.”

“I'm just enjoying the sight of my knees,” Lilith said, drawing back to rest her elbows on the top of the couch, elongating her slender body further. “I am attempting to become re-acquainted with everything below my breasts.”

“How is that going?”

“Sadly, our bonding has been rather lacklustre. It seems that, in our time apart, the relationship has become... distant.”

At the word, greyness had settled in Lilith's voice, her eyes going somewhere corresponding, and Mary placed a hand to Lilith's raised bicep. “It's over now, you know that, don't you? Your body is yours again.”

To Mary's alarm, she saw that Lilith's eyes were quickly welling up, gleaming as they affixed on far-away sands. Her voice, when she replied, reflected that dryness.

“Would that it were true.”

“But it _is_ true. You're just as you were before.”

“Before thirteen months ago, yes. But never as I once was.”

Mary paused as the implication emerged, and visions of just one flavour of Lilith's horrific memories slunk through her mind. “Do you... would it help you to talk about those days? If the births... the... the channellings... if they're weighing you down, I can make some tea and listen.”

“I'd prefer not to put you in mind of my limitless torment.”

“I know. But if it'll help, I don't mind. I've become a lot stronger of stomach since you came into my life.”

A sniff and a mirthless smirk. “You've really had no choice but to do so.”

“And I don't regret it. I used to think I was so brave for enjoying horror films that made my students shriek and hide their faces, but as it turns out, I had much courage yet to learn.”

“Life will always find a way to deliver more horrors than fiction could ever hope to.”

“It does seem that way. Especially when you've had a virtual eternity to receive them.” Mary spoke them gently, but even so the words felt incisive, and she shook her head at herself, let her hand slip down to grasp Lilith's. “I can't do anything about those things, of course. But I can be here while you process them, and I know that counts for something.”

She did know that, with absolute certainty. She had seen it time and again, in the eyes of someone who had, for almost her entire life, been used, neglected and abandoned, in frequent rotation. And coming from a place of endless noise, Mary knew also that the quiet which she might curate meant more to Lilith than the First could express; having a place where she could close her eyes, because the immediate world was not attempting to swallow her whole, was precious, and Mary wanted to the depths of her being to continue maintaining such a space. Even when it took her to her own emotional limits and beyond.

Lilith's gaze had yet to return to the room, but her voice showed that Mary's attempts at a tethering had been somewhat successful.

“It has been far too long since I knew what it meant to have 'my own' body. For all that that suggests. I was... engineered to be physically perfect. Once. And yet I found a way to degrade myself beyond all repair. Indeed, if I did not so intensely loathe the source of my creation, I might feel apologetic towards him. For so ruining myself.”

“I know this is anger, but you're being unfair.” 

“Let me be a little unfair, then.”

“All right.”

In gratitude, Lilith's eyes broke free and ran across Mary, from her hand, up her arm, to her patient face.

“When I... remade myself in your image – despite it not initially being entirely of my own volition – it felt as though I could perhaps have a new beginning. Even though what is inside of me will never change, the outward illusion of metamorphosis... was tempting to believe.”

Mary pointedly maintained eye-contact. “It has changed, though.”

“Has it?”

“Don't fight me on this, Lilith. You made a promise to yourself, to treat yourself like a human being. To be kinder to yourself and allow yourself to grow.”

“If only that had occurred before he—” She could not complete the thought, and Mary paged through options: before he had led her astray, in the Wastes? Before he had manipulated her into the position of Mother of Demons? Before he had promised her a reign at his side, only to replace her (the second agonising replacement of her long life) with his own ill-begotten offspring? Before he had discovered her hopes of a new life, alongside a doting mortal...

Lilith had caught the question as it journeyed across her face.

“Before he found me. Hiding here. And inspired what seemed at the time to be my only chance of survival.”

“Oh...” She interlaced their matching fingers, stroked her thumb across Lilith's knuckles. After some time, she found her next words. “But we got through that. And the child won't be here for much longer. Even if not having him here to remind you is only a slight comfort, maybe—”

“Do you remember how badly I wanted to give up, Mary? I'd never before wanted to cease my existence with such desperation. Not even in the depths of my misuse.”

“I remember. And I was willing to accept it. If I had to. Because... your existence is your own choice.”

“But ever since then... ever since... _that_ ,” she too cast her eyes towards the floorboards, “I've become less and less anchored to the physical. To my material form.”

Lilith returned her eyes to Mary's, once more dried up, and Mary had nothing to say, could only wait for Lilith's further explanation.

“There has been a void, growing inside of me. Alongside that wretched parasite. And slowly it has killed every sensation which once brought me pleasure. I can feel neither hot nor cold anymore. I can't taste anything.”

“But,” Mary thought back to a few nights previous, “you said you really liked my casserole. You even took seconds.”

Lilith's gaze was doleful. “I was lying to you.” 

“Oh.”

“For your sake, I made a show of it. But I honestly couldn't distinguish the flavour from anything else which might pass my lips.”

Mary sat with this crushing knowledge, remembering too how Lilith had claimed to enjoy the scent of the pot-pourri she had made, or the aromatherapy bath she had drawn in the aftermath of childbirth. All those things, mere mimicry for her own benefit. This was not about her, however, and she would not wallow as if that were the case.

“Is there anything I can do?” were the only words which sprang to heart.

“I don't think so. No,” came Lilith's rueful reply. “This may eventually pass, or it might not, and I might find myself... reduced to a previous normalcy.” 

“I don't want that for you.”

“This body... it's a stranger to me now. I've forgotten how it feels to be in control.”

“But you _are_ in control.”

“Only in the most unconscious of ways.”

“Then, maybe you can... try to reconnect with yourself, more consciously. Awaken that link.”

“A beautiful thought. But I'm... I'm sorry. I think you'll just have to accept that I'm going to be absent for a while. It all feels far too distant to grasp.”

“Maybe on your own. But I'm still here. And if you want my help, I can try to... to awaken your body, with you. In that way that's always meant so much to you.”

“Are you suggesting that you tend to my carnality?”

“I love how you speak.”

“It is the side-effect of having lived through centuries of vernacular. But if that is what you're suggesting, might I remind you, I am well aware that it is not a pursuit that you enjoy.”

“It's not my usual preference, no. But then, in turn, might I remind you that your happiness is far more important to me than guarding some rigid concept of my sexuality? I'll not suffer in the process.”

“It may be all for naught, Mary. If this body has lost its _joie de vivre_.” 

“I'm willing to help you find out, if you'll let me.”

Lilith's answering smile was thin but genuine, and she silently set about unbuttoning her shirt.

Mary joined in, from the opposite direction, so that their hands met in the middle, and Lilith grasped hers, lifting it to rest against her lips, then brushed Mary's palm against her face, searching for sensation.

In turn, Mary made a cup of her hand, traced Lilith's cheekbone up and over her ear, and watched for some reaction; but Lilith would not lie to her this time, and revealed no frisson of enjoyment. Drawing up her knees onto the couch, she edged closer, so that their thighs lay perpendicular, then leant in to kiss Lilith's neck, all the way up to her remarkable jaw and along it, her hand drawing Lilith's face closer with light-fingered pressure.

Instinctively, respectfully, Mary avoided Lilith's lips, not being so unkind as to prompt her fears of smothering. She ran her fingers up into Lilith's hairline, and caressed within the buoyant brown waves, feeling the warmth of Lilith's scalp and seeking to massage in some warmth of her own.

Lilith sighed, not with pleasure but resignation, and Mary frowned. “Give me your patience,” she whispered, a phrase which held much meaning for the both of them, and in return received the barest of nods.

She reached a hand into Lilith's open shirt and made contact with her ribs, feeling so much heat from that narrow cage which claimed to be dead to the world's stimulation. With just her fingers, she hugged Lilith, dipping into her intercostals then pulling against her waist. Lilith's body easily gave to the pressure, being drawn towards her without argument, and Mary twisted to grip the couch frame in support as she lowered her lips to Lilith's prominent clavicle.

The worrisome lack of feedback spreading darkness across her mind, Mary considered that the silence was perhaps putting too much pressure on Lilith, was perhaps causing her to become even more critical of her numbness. And she sought some happy topic of discussion.

“That woven bracelet you made me for my birthday”, Mary spoke against her chest, “I finally wore it to work last week. I was nervous, at first,” she ran her hand further down to caress Lilith's hip, to hook two fingers through the band of her underwear, “because it was so different to anything they'd seen me wear before. So... organic. So earthy.”

“You didn't have to.”

“But I wanted to. It was like having you at school with me; whenever I felt anxious, I could touch it, under my sleeve, and it made me feel more calm.”

“That's still so strange.”

“What is?” Lilith's waistband placed a not dissimilar tension around her wrist, as she caressed further down the soft curve.

“I have been many things, to many people. I have struck fear and passion and awe... but I do not believe I can name a time wherein I have soothed anyone's nerves. Well. Not since—”

“Don't go there,” Mary told her, gently but definitely, and with relief she confirmed Lilith's avoidance of that fraught path. She freed her hand from the waistband and brought it to lie on Lilith's stomach, still for a moment. “Anyway. You do soothe me. And one of those times when I had my hand up my sleeve, one of the students asked what I was hiding.”

“Which student?”

“Does it matter?”

“I'd like to know how I should feel about the situation.”

“Ms Walker, then. She has unusually sharp eyes.”

“Rather, her intuition, I should think.”

“Well, she asked me, and I told her that it was a... good luck charm. From someone I love.”

Lilith's subtle intake of breath was the same Mary often heard when Lilith was confronted with direct proclamations of love, but equally she hoped that the way her hand was drifting down into the First Woman's underwear was contributing to the reaction.

“After everything I've done to you...” 

“After everything you've done _for_ me.”

“Sometimes I find you quite incomprehensible, Mary.”

“I'll take that as a compliment.” Her hand at first rested on Lilith's curls, then began to stroke them, but she kept her eyes to herself, kept speaking so that their bond was more than just touch. “I'm still impressed that you hid it from me for so long, that you had remembered my birthday. You're usually such an obvious liar.”

“To you, perhaps. But I have a proud legacy as a liar of note. I have toppled kingdoms with my words.”

“I know.”

“I have tricked mortals into devising their own doom, with precious little effort.”

“I am aware, First Witch.” She extended her middle finger between Lilith's folds and quietly rejoiced at the little tremble which passed through Lilith's body in reply.

“And yet you dare slander me so.” There was instability on her sibilants, something between physical distraction and amusement.

“Is it slander to say that you've opened yourself up to me?” And open herself up she did, without prompting, letting her knees loosen to accommodate Mary's touch.

“I've punished men for less.”

“Then more than ever I'm glad that I am not a man.” If only due to centuries of pragmatism, Lilith's nether regions had grown sleek and welcoming, but Mary chose to see it as promising.

“I would happily share in that sentiment.” A hitching tension passed through the witch's body, hitching once more as Mary lifted her face to work her lips across Lilith's steadily arching throat.

Her mouth otherwise occupied, Mary had the benefit of time to think further on their conversation. At length, she lowered her face once more, and steadied the uncertainty from her hand as she delved deeper with her fingers.

“Tell me about your coven, Lilith. The one from the journal.”

“What would you like to know?” A slow-motion undulation, as if through treacle, was travelling through Lilith's spine, and Mary felt herself lifted slightly, as the wave reached Lilith's shoulders.

“When they worshipped you, what did you enjoy the most?” 

“Do you really want to know?”

“Of course.”

“Well...” Her hips were shifting, as she pressed herself in brief recoils against Mary's fingers. “At times I would chase them through the woods, frighten them until their blood ran cold with the knowledge that at any time, from any direction, I could tear them apart.”

“Which they entered into willingly.”

“Yes.” The word was more breathy than usual. “They desired to excite me, knowing my blood-lust grew hotter when I held power over them.”

Mary filtered her fear at this story through what she knew of Lilith in the present, through her understanding of the kindness and affection which dwelt in that ancient enigma of a being.

“And then what did you do, when you caught one of them?” She knew the answer from reading the journal cover to cover, but knew also that Lilith would gain something in the telling.

“It all depended on my mood, and on the witch. On the scent and taste of her. Perhaps I would whisk us away to the privacy of the treetops before I spread her out, beneath the moon.”

“Or?” Mary lowered herself so that she could slide her finger further up into Lilith's mounting tension.

“Or I would cast a ring of hellfire on the earth, trapping us both until she saw to every desire I could dream up.”

“How else did they celebrate you?”

“There was... a dais. Hewn of darkest wood. Upon which sweet-scented pillows were piled for my comfort. There they would bring the finest pressed oils, and anoint my body, from neck to toe.”

Mary too found herself anointed, to the palm, and recalled further scenarios penned by Lilith's acolytes; as such, she knew where she should continue. With as much courtesy as she could, she withdrew her hand, placing another series of kisses upon Lilith's chest as she did so.

Keen not to leave too many of Lilith's rolling cycles untended, Mary moved from the couch to kneel between the witch's knees and slip off her underwear. And with more focus than she ever put into gardening or embroidering, and with affection unparalleled, she embraced Lilith's thighs from below and placed her lips where they were most needed.

From overhead, she heard the honest exclamation and it filled her breast with relief: there was no cause to suspect Lilith of pretending her pleasure, with such a sound. Not with the way her body greeted each movement of Mary's tongue.

 _'I'll not suffer in the process'_ , she had told Lilith, and what an understatement it had been, for what could be further from suffering than delivering sweet solace to a loved one?

She moved her hands to press in the shape of a butterfly against Lilith's pelvis, her thumbs stimulating the places closest to her attentions, the blade of her hand following the inward curve of Lilith's hips, feeling the powerful surging of the witch's experienced muscles beneath her palms. And before she could see it coming, she found herself pinned, when Lilith's legs had drawn her in and locked firmly at her shoulders.

Something primal inside of her panicked at the sudden enclosure, and outside of her control, Lilith's heady scent became that of a predator. The gratifying motions grew threatening, and tales of consumption flooded her mind.

She shut her eyes and fought to resist the many animal impulses, to replace them with images of domestic contentment, and reminded herself also that, in the realm of common human sexuality, this sort of position was to be envied.

The instants became seconds, and she was at risk of failing, until she felt it upon her wrist: that braided token, soft leather accented with satin thread and care; that pressure was love, and likewise the far greater pressure across her shoulders.

The crippling weight of her fear having lifted, she redoubled her efforts, taking an uncharacteristic turn by firmly grazing her short fingernails down hip and thigh. The idea was clearly appreciated, and so she clawed further, reaching behind her own neck to where Lilith's calves were locked. Then, with some difficulty, she brought one hand back into the fray and into the witch, set about stroking Lilith from within, as her tongue tirelessly celebrated each of the millions of singing nerve-endings which she held captive between her lips.

 _'Come hither'_ , said one finger and then another, within the sodden, rolling space that had accepted her with complete abandon. And which had, from the tightening of its walls, grown ravenous for completion.

A pause to glance upwards at Lilith's face confirmed it, blue eyes meeting hers with electricity and longing.

In earnest, Mary sped up, growing stronger in each movement that answered Lilith's explicit desires. Her fingers ached where they were gripped, dangerously close to cramping up, and so she cast sensation elsewhere with her free hand, driving her nails into the muscles at Lilith's rear and gaining vivid approval. Her eyes pressed shut with focus, she was startled by the sudden grasping of that hand, Lilith's fingers interlacing with hers, stiff with fervour.

Each of Mary's hands now claimed – their grips matched in heat and vigour – it was blind and bound that she experienced Lilith's climax, tasting it and hearing it with such dizzying intensity that she nearly swooned.

With the softness of exhaustion, she loosed her hand from Lilith's body and rested her spinning forehead against a quaking thigh, just barely managing to return the loving squeeze from the hand still held aloft.

Yet reeling, she found herself assaulted once more by a sudden gathering up, Lilith's legs drawing her inward and her arms wrapping around Mary's chest, such that she was trapped once more – though this time entirely without fear. Even so, Lilith's preternatural strength was enough to cause a worrying ache in her ribs and the First Witch showed no awareness of this.

“Lilith?” Mary whispered hoarsely, because her voice could do no more than that.

Yet from Lilith's face, pressed temple to temple against her own, there was no answer; until Mary realised that the answer lay in the quaking, which came not from her fading orgasm but from the free-flowing emotion which had broken loose throughout Lilith's entire being. The small, arrhythmic gasps close to Mary's ear were an alien sound from Lilith, but Mary understood those sobs with ease. And so she relaxed her body as best she could, allowed Lilith to crush her however much was needed, while the First Woman re-discovered what it was to feel.

**Author's Note:**

> The succubi Neesa and Tira are from Answers for Mary, though only Neesa has so far appeared at present publishing, in chapter 39.


End file.
